


Worship

by LovelyPlantPrincess



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Gemma and Clay have some varying bedroom kinks, I just explore one, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Plot? What Plot?, Pre-pilot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyPlantPrincess/pseuds/LovelyPlantPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gemma deserves so much better than what JT has been giving her. Clay makes sure that she knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worship

“Shh,” Clay whispers into her ear, rubbing his hands up and down her sides. His right hand briefly plays with the edge of her bra before dancing away again, rubbing circular motions over the bleeding rose tattoo right above her hip. Gemma moans, buries her fingers in the small curls at the back of his head and brings him down for another crushing kiss. It’s more teeth than it is tongue, and she gasps when he bites down hard on her bottom lip.

“Can’t stay quiet, the way you’re treating me,” she pants in reply, her fingers deftly making quick work of his belt. Clay tuts lightly and grabs her wrists with one large hand, slamming them against the wall above her head. He gets a small gasp in reply, and smirks to himself - she called him transparent, and maybe he was, but when they were fucking he could read her like a goddamned children’s book.

A few papers and boxes fall from the storage room closet, falling over them messily and landing at their bare feet. Outside, the Clubhouse is alive with noise. Everyone was in full swing - last he’d seen, girls were dancing on the bar and tables, their hips swaying, their eyes heavy with make-up and half-lidded. He’d purposely tried to make Gemma jealous by delivering a flat-handed smack to one pretty thing’s ass, and that had been it. She’d grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the back room, muttering something trivial about books to look at.

Everyone knew better, but yet they’d still found themselves locked in the closet because it makes them feel better to be careful. Especially since Jax was in a bit of a pissy mood over their relationship and she would do anything to spare her son anger and confusion.

“Slow down, baby. I’ll take real good care of you, just let me,” he instructs, placing his mouth over her neck. Her back arches and pushes her breasts against his chest, and Clay chuckles. God, he knows she wants it. She needs it. But he loved making her wait - loved it when she finally broke down and begged him to give her that little push.

His left hand keeps hers above her head and his right works the button on those tight as fuck black jeans she’d been wearing. He pulls the zipper down slowly and she squirms, way too eager to get her rocks off. God, she was so damn sexy.

Clay slowly releases her hands, but there’s a fire in his eyes.

“Keep them up there,” he mutters, pressing his lips against the tattoo on her breast. She whimpers slightly, but says nothing. Gemma’s never been particularly vocal in bed - once she got to a point, it was more or less up to him to figure out what she needed. “If you move your hands, Gemma, I swear I will stop.”

She nods distractedly, keeping her wrists planted firmly against the wall. Clay smiles up at her.

“Good girl,” he whispers. Once again, his hands trail down her body - caressing her face, gently running between her breasts and over them. Over the flat space between her hip bones, down to the dark fabric of her jeans. With each trail of creamy pale flesh revealed, he slides further down her body - eventually crouching below her. “Lift your hips for me, baby.”

Gemma does as told, lifting her hips off the wall. Smirking, Clay peers up at her as he slides the fabric over her hips, down her thighs, stopping only at her knees. Her head is tossed back, her eyes fluttered closed and the soft bruised flesh of her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth.

“Look at me,” Clay demands sharply. “Let me see you, babe.”

Once more, Gemma follows her orders. Her eyes flutter open and she tilts her head down, staring at him with lust-filled hazel eyes that make him want to fuck her senseless. But he knows better - he knows it will be worth so much more if he treats her right and he knows that she _deserves_ for him to treat her right. She wasn’t a two-dollar whore - she was queen and his mama taught him how to treat his queen like a woman,

“That’s good,” he praises. Clay pulls at her jeans until they’re mostly pooled at the floor and she kicks her feet out of them, shoving them aside with her blouse. She’s bare before him now - wearing nothing but a pair of gorgeous lace black panties with a dangerous red frill. His eyes flit back up, to the matching lace black bra with the small red bow carefully placed between both her breasts. Most of Gemma’s under garments were lingerie, but this was shit he’d never even seen before. It must’ve been new. It must’ve… “Fuck… this for me?”

Gemma nods slowly, trying to come with the words. She hated what this man managed to do to her - how he managed to make her speechless. She was the most outspoken person any of the boys knew at yet a simple graze of his fingers left a lump in her throat.

“Bought it today. Thought you might like it - you usually love me in red,” she admits. Clay presses a kiss on her hipbone.   
  
“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re just…” he trails off. “God, you’re not going to be able to walk to the car after I’m through with you.”

She laughs at that, tossing her head back against the wall. Clay gives her a final approving once over before going back to his work - kissing up her leg from her ankle to her thigh. He pauses there, separating her legs slightly so that his mouth could get closer to _her_. Lightly, Clay trails his tongue up and over the skin there. Then, when his mouth reaches the hem of her panties, he gently tugs with his teeth until they’re sliding over her hips.

Gemma must’ve been expecting for him to fuck her that night - first the brand new lingerie and now she’s perfectly shaven. Clay barely exhales sharply, his warmth breath tickling her in a way that makes her bite the inside of her bottom lip instead of the outside.

“Clay-” she doesn’t get to finish her rebuke because soon his tongue is delving inside of her. It’s gentle and slow, so very fucking teasing. But it’s just right - just enough to make her cry out loudly. Instinctively, her fingers attempt to bury themselves in his hair, but he draws away from her with a stern glare.

“I told you I would stop,” he snaps. Gemma nods feverently, placing her hands above her head again. With a satisfied smile, he returns to her perfectly shaven mound - licking the length of her before flicking his tongue under the hood of her clit. Her legs tremble and the position is a bit awkward, so he takes her left leg and hoists it over his shoulder. This allows him to get deeper into her sweetness, and she tastes so fucking good. He wonders how long it’s been since he’s properly ate her out and is ashamed when he realizes it’s been too long.

His lapping is slow and tenuous at first for all his cockiness. He tastes her wetness and tests it, dipping into her one moment then flicking against her clit the next and pausing to pull her labia between his teeth. Gemma writhes under each of her little experiments, her body opening up to him when her mouth refused to.

Clay always had a magic mouth, full of tricks and sleight of tongue and teeth that seemed all to able to saw her in half with one misstep. He was a god - and yeah, he didn’t go down on her as much as she did him, but that seemed to make everything better. It made it less of a sexual act and more of a treat. _You’ve been_ real _good, baby,_ his actions whispers every time he takes her into his mouth. _Let me_ show _you how good._

 _Shit_ , he barely started and she already felt as if she were falling apart at the seams, as if the very fabric of her being was at the mercy of this man’s tongue.

Clay’s lips enclose her clit and he sucks it gently. Gemma bucks her hips forward, as if that would somehow change how slowly he was planning on worshipping her. His left hand grips her hip and brings her even closer - so much so that his nose tickles her clit. His other hand makes itself useful by slipping two fingers inside of her, slowly pushing in centimeter by centimeter.

“God… fuck! Clay, _please_!” Gemma relents eventually, tired of holding out. She’d been trying to contain herself - see if she could come without having to beg him. But she needs him - needs him to slide inside of her and breath hard in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Needs him to cup her ass and fuck her senseless - until her speech is slurred and her eyes are rolling back into her head. God, she fucking needs him and he’s making her wait.

“Please what, baby girl? Tell me what you want,” he demands sweetly, pulling away from her. Under the dim closet light, his mouth glistens with her slick and she so _desperately_ wants to touch. She wants to drag him up by his chin and force him to do her proper - quit being such a goddamned tease and make her see stars.

“Please, Clay, fuck me,” she whispers. He smirks triumphantly, let’s her leg fall from his shoulder. He stands slowly until he’s towering over her, a predatory glint in his eyes. She loved it when he was like this - dominant, controlling. When they were in the bedroom usually, it was more her taking the reins or a battle to be on top. Gemma doesn’t think she’ll ever tell him how much she loves being controlled, being topped by a man who knows what he wants and how to get it.

He unbuckles his pants quickly, shoving them down with his boxers. All the while staring at her, daring her to look away and make him walk out the storage door. But even when she’s submissive, Gemma is about as stubborn as a mule and she stares him down hard. When his cock springs free from the constraint of fabric - slapping against his belly before standing at attention between his legs - she finally looks away. Her eyes travel down, and there’s unmasked desire in her eyes. She wanted it so bad.

Clay doesn’t bother coming up with some sly dirty talk - he takes her wrists and locks both of her arms around his neck. Using both hands, he lifts her thighs until her legs are wound around his waist and the tip of his cock is pressing teasingly against her folds. She bucks her hips forward, sliding his tip slightly inside of her and Clay does everything in his power not to fuck her.

It may be what she wanted - but it just wasn’t what she deserved.

“Keep your legs around my waist, baby,” he murmurs into her ear. Gemma nods and he plants one hand on the side of her hand - using the other to steady his length and slowly push into her. She gasps and curses, finally abusing her allowance to touch by bringing him forward for another heated kiss. She can taste herself on him - sweet and so fucking dirty. His tongue runs over her bottom lip and then pokes around her mouth - testing out places he’s already been before.

Clay grinds slow and deep - using his hand to support him as he rolls his hips back and forth. With each thrust inward, he adds another inch to how much he puts inside of her. Gemma lives for it - her mouth pulling away from his and her head rolling forward to rest on his shoulder and her blonde and black tresses tickling his pecs.

She’s tight and warm and wet around him - months of sleeping together and he still hadn’t managed to stretch her out yet. He has to admit - the idea of treating her like she deserves to be treated slips his mind briefly, the primal need inside of him to treat her like a whore roaring loudly. But he has her body alive for him - speaking volumes of how much wants… how much she needs this. There were years ahead to fuck like animals - she deserved to be made to feel good.

Especially with John off in Belfast, balls deep in some blonde idiot. Gemma wouldn’t admit it, but she desperately wanted to feel gorgeous again and Clay was going to come through for her. He would always come through for her.

He eventually reaches the point where he’s balls deep inside of her and she’s whimpering. Her teeth nip at the sweaty flesh of his shoulder and he holds her there - not moving an inch, letting her feel everything happening inside of her at the moment. Gemma’s nails dig into his scalp and it hurts a bit, but god if it isn’t sexy the way she’s so open for him.

“You’re lighting up for me baby,” Clay hums appreciatively. “Tell me, Gem. What do you need?”

“You, Clay,” she admits, her voice small and slightly weak. She’s trembling all over - they’re not even truly fucking yet and she’s already on the edge - just barely escaping the rising action, but not quite tilting over into the climax. “God, I need _you_ baby. I _love_ you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispers back, and he means every word. She was everything he’d ever wanted for a soulmate and he loved her endlessly - there were things he was willing to do for this woman that would change the definition of loyalty. “So fucking much. So _fucking_ much.”

He moves his hips again, pulling most of the way out slowly before sliding back in. Gemma growls in response, busying her mouth with scraping and suckling hickeys onto his shoulder so that she doesn’t cry out. Last thing they needed was for Jax to find their little hiding place due to her screaming.

His hips roll a bit with each thrust, and he delivers everything just the way she wants, but the speed remains the same. He wanted her to enjoy this. If she was lit up for him right now, he wanted to carve fireworks into her skin. He wasn’t allowed to make her scream, but he wanted to get damn close.

Her mouth pulls away from his skin and it hurts where the warmth used to be - Clay doesn’t even want to imagine the shit she’d inflicted on him. Gemma’s head tilts back against the wall again, her eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth has fallen open, and there are noises coming from her throat that are damn near pornographic. If he had a free hand, he would clamp it over her mouth but he doesn’t. Luckily, Gemma knows better - she winces as she removes one of her hands from around his neck and bites into the flesh on the back of it.

She doesn’t need to tell him - he feels it in the way she clenches around his length and growls into her hand. He fucks her through it, moving slower than before - if that was even possible. Gemma shakes around him, her legs turning into gelatin. There are no stars or fireworks flashing behind her eyelids. Nothing but sweet, pure darkness. Oblivion as she rides through the orgasm, desperately trying to take all of him in. He’s too far way, even though he’s right there - mouthing her exposed neck and murmuring sweet ‘I love you’s’ into the hollow of her throat.

She comes down from the high with his name on her lips, a desperate prayer. Clay holds her as he slides out - his still hard length resting against her thigh.

“You’re not gonna…” she mutters, fumbling for his cock. Rolling his eyes, Clay takes her hand and presses his lips against the back of it.

“I can handle a little blue balls until we get out of here. I’m not fucking you in a storage closet again - you deserve better than that, gorgeous,” he says sternly. He seems so _sure_ of himself - so confident that he’s right, that she _does_ deserve better than senseless fucking on whatever flat surface. And there’s so much unadulterated emotion in those pools of ocean, she doesn’t even have the urge to sarcastically ask _‘Do I?’._

“I meant it, Clay Morrow,” she says instead. Gemma locks her legs tighter around his waist and pulls him closer to her - so that her breasts push up against his chest and his lips fall a few centimeters from her mouth. “I love you.”

“I know you do, baby.”


End file.
